


All Differences of Class and Country

by sharkie335



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Bondage, M/M, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-04
Updated: 2010-01-04
Packaged: 2017-10-05 18:49:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/44947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sharkie335/pseuds/sharkie335
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>And even if he <i>had</i> thought about it, he would never had thought seeing John in what amounts to a monkey suit would effectively shut his brain down.<br/></p>
            </blockquote>





	All Differences of Class and Country

**Author's Note:**

> Title comes from a quote from Sir Robert Baden-Powell: The uniform makes for brotherhood, since when universally adopted it covers up all differences of class and country.

Rodney jerks to a stop, staring in amazement at what he's seeing. He blinks, trying to clear his eyes, unbelieving.  
John - no, Lieutenant Colonel Sheppard - in his dress uniform. Rodney is aware that there are diplomats arriving on the _Daedalus_ for a two week visit to Atlantis, and he's in his uniform, as clean and pressed as he can get it out here, but he hadn't thought about it in terms of what other people might be wearing. And even if he _had_ thought about it, he would never had thought seeing John in what amounts to a monkey suit would effectively shut his brain down.  
But it has, and Rodney barely realizes that he's staring until John smiles shyly at him, eyes lowered to the floor. Rodney slams his mouth shut, swallowing with a convulsive _click_ from a dry throat.  
He wants to shove John into a waiting closet; wants to muss that carefully styled hair, that attentively attired body. Wants to go to his knees and suck John off, leaving him doe-eyed and gasping, but there's no time, and instead he nods like a bobble headed doll, saying, "Colonel."  
"McKay," John says, nodding as well. "Say, do you still have those Doctor Who episodes?"  
Rodney has to forcefully derail his train of thought, and think about the question. "What? Oh, yes. They're on my personal laptop in my quarters. You want to borrow them?"  
"I actually thought that I might watch them with you? I figure we're both going to want a break after having to play nicely all day with the suits." But John's eyes are still lowered, and his body language is screaming that he wants something else - something that Rodney would kill to give him right now.  
"Yes, yes. We could do that. Say, after dinner?"  
"It's a date." And John walks off, whistling, leaving Rodney staring at him as he goes to meet the delegation, only belatedly remembering that he's supposed to go as well, and he has to run to catch up.  
The day is every bit as boring as Rodney could have predicted, games of "Please jump higher" that he barely understands and doesn't care about. But he realizes that it's important to Elizabeth and John - that these games are what keep them here, in this city that is more home than any of them have ever had before - so he bites down the comments he wants to say, and makes nice, even trying to explain exactly what they're trying to do in the physics labs in terms that trained monkeys can understand.  
Dinner drags on for what feels like hours. The food is at least good, mostly Earth-normal with just enough Pegasus specialties to make it seem foreign to the delegation, and Rodney focuses on what he's eating, keeping his head down so that he doesn't stare at John, like some sort of simpleton.  
When it's finally over, Elizabeth dismisses him with a nod, and Rodney doesn't hesitate, making his way out of the room at a fast clip. He vaguely hears footsteps behind him, and he turns to see John, walking fast. When he reaches Rodney, he doesn't even stop, simply snags Rodney's arm and gets him moving as well, and they head to Rodney's room at a speed just shy of running. Those they pass in the hall simply smile and nod, assuming that they're trying to escape the diplomats.  
They get to Rodney's room, and the door has barely shut behind them when John presses up against him, kissing him deeply, hands already busy unzipping Rodney's jacket. Getting him to stop is an effort that Rodney very nearly doesn't make, but he wants. God, how he wants. Without breaking the kiss, he murmurs into John's mouth, "John, John, please. I need to..."  
John backs off with an almost physical wrench, and for a moment it's all Rodney can do not to pull him back. But instead he lifts his hands and carefully, slowly, unbuttons John's jacket. John stands still as Rodney slips the jacket down and off, hanging it carefully over the back of the desk chair so that it won't wrinkle.  
Next up is the tie, and Rodney uses just as much care to untie it. Then, with judicious care, he unbuttoned John's shirt, hanging it with the same meticulous care. Leaving John in his pants, he picked the tie back up, and moved around behind him, saying only, "John?"  
He doesn't have to say more, because John puts his hands behind his back, where Rodney uses the tie to secure them. He moves in front of John again, studying the way that having his hands bound brings the muscles of his arms and chest into sharp relief. Rodney can't believe that John lets him do this, positively encourages it. This beautiful human animal, and it's all his to play with.  
He ducks his head, sucking a nipple into his mouth, and John groans, loud and harsh above him. But he doesn't say anything, and Rodney wants to hear him, wants him to say things that only Rodney gets to hear. So he lavishes attention on the hard nub in his mouth, lashing it with his tongue, nipping sharply at it and then soothing it with long licks.  
John's breathing is growing faster, and when Rodney glances down, he can see the growing bulge in John's pants. His mouth waters, and he wants to suck him. Forgetting his other plans, he goes to his knees, helping John step out of his shoes and then his pants, leaving him in his boxers.  
His hips moving uncontrollably, John thrusts his hard cock towards his face. "Please, Rodney. _Please_."  
Rodney opens his mouth, breathing warm, moist air over the head of John's cock, still behind the thin cotton. The material is growing damp from the head of John's cock, and Rodney sucks it thoughtfully into his mouth, tasting John, stronger than any detergent. But he needs more than that, so he carefully slips the boxers down, leaving John naked and bound.  
Holding John's cock steady with his hand, he licks a broad path up the underside, letting his tongue linger on the sensitive point at the base of the head, until John moans and thrusts again. Then he opens wide and takes as much of John's cock as he can, swallowing until the head lodges in his throat. Then he starts to move, slow and steady. It's not enough to make John come, but it's enough to make him nuts. Driving John insane is definitely on his to-do list today.  
Above him, John is moaning and pleading; begging for Rodney to suck harder, suck faster. But John knows that Rodney will do what he wants, and he doesn't thrust anymore, hips held rigid by sheer force of will that Rodney rewards with a hard suck to the head of John's cock, making him shout.  
When his mouth starts to get tired and his cock thrums painfully in his pants, he releases John's cock, pulling back and looking up John's long, lean body to his face. It's twisted now, as John entreats him not to stop. Ignoring him, he climbs back to his feet and haphazardly starts shedding clothes. He knows that he's not much to look at next to John, but he doesn't care. John likes him like this and it's good enough for him, so he has no false modesty about being naked with him.  
Taking one of John's arms, he leads him over to the bed and helps him climb up. Carefully, he guides him so that he's lying on his face, ass propped up on two pillows. John's hips are moving restlessly as his cock searches out stimulation, and Rodney slaps him carelessly on one hip. "Be still."  
John freezes, and Rodney nods, even though John can't see him. Picking up the lube, he moves behind John, looking him over. For as hairy a man as John is, his back is smooth and surprising unblemished, only one puckered scar marring the expanse of skin, a relic of a spear on one of their missions. The tie is a navy slash against the skin of his wrists, trailing off against his waist. Rodney takes a moment to rearrange the trailing ends, so that they point directly at John's ass, and the small action makes him smile. John shifts restlessly, then stops again, and Rodney climbs up on the bed, setting the lube down by his knee and spreading John's cheeks wide, looking at the small hole.  
He just looks until the skin under his hands heats up, an all over body flush that he knows John can't control, not that he wants him to. Leaning forward, he licks a broad stripe up John's cleft, passing right over his hole and making John groan again. John both loves and hates being rimmed, at how out of control it makes him, and Rodney loves it for that very reason.  
He doesn't tease, though, instead going after John's hole with the tip of his tongue, pressing it in, loving how John opens right up for him. He nips and tongues John, barely able to hear his noises over the roaring in his ears. Rodney's so hard it hurts, and it's all he can do not to just come up on his knees and force his way into John, especially knowing that John will take it from him if that's what he wants.  
But the diplomats are here, and John is going to have to be able to sit tomorrow, so instead he patiently works him open with his mouth, and then his fingers, twisting them and scissoring them inside his tight hole until they can move freely. John's noises are a steady blur of moans, and Rodney knows he's doing good because they don't stop, just increasing in volume when he passes over John's prostate.  
Finally he can't stand it anymore, and he kneels back up, slicking up his cock. "Ready?"  
"Fuck, yes," John groans into the mattress, and Rodney presses the head of his cock into John's waiting entrance, watching it as he slides slowly inside. He's never seen anything sexier, and the heat and slick of being inside John nearly breaks him with how good it is.  
He barely pauses to let John adjust, and then he starts to _move_, long, steady strokes that he can keep up forever. John groans and thumps his head against the mattress. Once again, it's not enough to make John come, and with his hands tied behind him, he can't even reach down to touch himself.  
Rodney leans forwards on his hands and mouths the back of John's neck, picking up the taste of salt sweat, and says, "Yeah, I know. I'm a right bastard, aren't I?"  
John nods hard enough to almost hit Rodney in the nose with his head, and Rodney laughs and pushes back up, resting his hands on John's hips and focusing on calculating pi to the hundredth digit. That should be long enough - "Dammit, Rodney!"  
He didn't even get to the fiftieth digit. Not bad - John must be worse off than Rodney realized. Slowly, he increases the force and speed of his thrusts, till he's practically lifting John's hips with every stroke. Without slowing, he grabs the tie holding John's hands and gives it a yank, unraveling the knot and letting his hands free.  
John doesn't hesitate, one of his hands slipping underneath him to start fisting his dick. Rodney knows that he's going hard and fast, trying to get off, and Rodney doesn't blame him, because he's riding the fine edge of his control, and starting to slip.  
Then John clenches tight around him, as he come with a cry, and that's it, the control that Rodney has held for so long is gone, crumbling away, and he falls, letting his orgasm take him where it will.  
When coming releases the iron grip it has on him, he falls to one side, pulling out of John with a groan that is echoed from John's throat. The two of them turn and twist till they end up in their normal position, John's head pillowed on Rodney's shoulder. Small aftershocks and shudders still move through him, and he tries to force himself to breathe deeply.  
"So, you like the uniform then?" John doesn't need to sound so gleeful, and Rodney pinches his hip.  
"Yes, I like the uniform. Like the man inside more, though." Like it was supposed to, it shuts John up, and Rodney smiles sleepily. Point to him. John can't sleep here tonight - not with all the high muckety mucks about, but they can close their eyes for just a few minutes.  
Just a few.  



End file.
